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DEL GRAND 



THE MINOR DRAMA. 

No. XXXVIII. 



DELICATE GROUND; 



OR, 



PARIS IN 1793. 



21 (JTomic JBrama 



IN ONE ACT. 



BY CHARLES DANCE. 

« t 

WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, OAST OF OHARACTERS, 
COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 



NEW-YORK : 
WM. TAYLOR & CO. 

(S. FRENCH, GENERAL AQEWT,) 

151 NaSSAU-StfIEKT, COIINEK OF SpRUCE. 






^^/^^j'// 
/"-?/ ^ 



EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 

*' Delicate Ground," is one of those light, summery pieces 
which are most happily presented to the American Public, from 
a French origin and through an English medium by one of the 
deft-handed play-wrights with which London abounds. The 
plot is neat and simple, arranged with great verbal dexterity, 
and so disposed as to satisfy the sentiment of the audience, 
distributing " equal and exact " justice to all the personages of 
the drama. C, M. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Lyceum. Olympic, 1850. 

Sangfroid Mr. C. Mathews. Mr. C. W. Walcot 

Mpkonse De Grandier " R. Roxby. •' D.S. Palmer. 

Pauline Madame Vestris. " Miss M. Taylor. 



The Costumes are the same as at the present day. 



EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 

R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 
8. E. Second Entrance ; U. E. Upper Entrance ; M. D. Middle Door. 



RELATIVE POSITIONS. 

R. means Right; L. Left; G. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre; 
L. C. Left of Centre. 



DELICATE GROUND. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — A handsome apartment. — Doors, R. and l., also 
door at back, c, with a flight of steps into the garden. 
Fire-place, with pier glass, r. — Large windows, l. u. e. 
Tables and chairs, R. and l. 

Enter from door, c, Pauline, slowly, and gazing on a 
letter. — She advances to the front, gazes still more ten- 
derly on the letter, takes out her handkerchief, wipes her 
eyes, kisses the letter, and then puts away her handker- 
chief 

Pau. Pauline, what is that you did ? Alas ! that even, 
when alone, one cannot escape the searching inquiries of 
conscience ! Yet, after all, is not conscience a less hard 
taskmaster than a cold, dissembling, ironical, tyrannical 
husband 1 No doubt, no doubt. Know, then, good con- 
science, that I kissed this letter, and know further, that 
this letter is not from my husband ; nay, start not ! it is 
a letter of other days, and it is from him who should have 
been my husband — from the object of my early, my deep 
affection — from the long lamented Alphonse de — hush ! 
my husband ! 

Enter Sangfroid from door l. — She conceals the letter 
hastily in her bosom. — He sees her do if, but does not let 
her perceive that he does. — He is in a dressing gown. 

San. Good morning, citizen wife. 

Pau. Good morning, Monsieur Sangfroid. 

Sa7i. Citizen Sangfroid, if you please ; I prefer it. 



8 DELICATE GROUND. [Act I. 

Pau. Citizen Sangfroid. 

San. Good ! Are you unwell ? 

Pau. Me ] no ! what makes you think so ? Have you 
observed anything particular about me 1 

San. No ! only that your countenance, as I came in, 
rather reminded me of the present condition of France. 

Pau. How so 1 

San. It seemed in a state of change — not to say, revo- 
lution. 

Pau. Did it, really? 

San. Yes, it did, really. 

Pau. Oh ! it was nothing. [^*i£?e.] And he has observed 
nothing. I am safe. 

San. Nothing, was it ? Good! [Pauline is going toward 
R.J Citizen wife ! 

Pau. [Stopping and turning.^ What, Citizen] 

San. Pardon me, I fear you will think me curious — 
perhaps impertinently so — but, as I entered, you concealed 
something hastily. 

Pau. [Pointing to her left pocket.^ Here? 

San. No! 

Pau. [Pointing to her right pocket.] Here ? 

San. No ! 

Pau. Where? 

San. [Pointing.] There ! 

Pau. [Drawing a golden cross from her bosom.] There ! 
Oh ! yes, I have a cross at the end of this chain. 

San. I know yau have, but that is not what I meant. 
Most people, at the present moment, complain of the 
superabundance of paper and the scarcity of gold ; 1 ask 
for paper, and you produce me gold I 

Pau. I have attempted to deceive you ; I confess it ; I 
have a paper here. [Draiving it out. 

San. You're wasting time. I told you I saw it. 

Pau. And I have an affection for this paper which — 

San. Stop a moment ! Our English neighbors always 
caution a prisoner not to criminate himself. If there is 
anything tender or romantic in your story, remember that 
1 am your husband, and abstain from telling it. I had 
rather be thought anything than rude or inquisitive. 

Pau. I ought to have informed you of it when I 
accepted you as a husband. 



Scene I] 



DELICATE GROUND. 9 



San. Oh ! you are now speaking of something that 
happened before we were married. 

Pau. Yes ! it was an attachment. 

San. An attachment, was it? Well, then, it's much 
better it should be before marrias:e than after. 

Pau. The young man's name was Alphonse. 

San. And a very nice name, too. 

Pau. Alphonse de — 

San. Hush ! that's quite enough ! 

Pau. He was of an excellent family in Brittany. 

San. Cut his biography short, it doesn't interest me. 

Pau. We were brought up together, and we loved each 
other. 

San. Never mind all that. I'm quite easy about the 
past. 

Pau. The time arrived when we were to be married, 
but, alas ! he died ! 

San. Poor young man ! [Aside.] Now I'm quite easy 
about the future. 

Pau, [Taking out her handkerchief.] You will not 
grudge me one tear to his memory ? 

San. Certainly not — shed two, three," if you like — that 
is, if you're sure he's dead. 

Pau. Behold all that remains to me of him — these two 
lines, the last he ever wrote. [ Reading.] " Dearest Pauline, 
my chateau has been attacked — I am mortally wounded — 1 
have only strength to send you this last J'are well." [Holding 
it out.] And see, it is written with his blood. 

Sa7c. Not a bit of it, it's red ink. 

Pau. Oh, don'^ say that ! I love to think that it is his 
blood. 

San. Well, it may be more romantic, but it's much 
nastier. 

Pau. Now that you know what this precious relic is, I 
feel that I ought not to be any longer its possessor. Take 
it. [Offering it. 

San. Pray, don't give it to me. I'm sure I don't want 
it. 

Pau. Ah ! you did not love him. 

San. How could I "? — I didn't know him — but I tell 
you what, I have an immense respect for his memory. 

Pau. You have % 



10 DELICATE GROUND. [Act I. 

San. Yes ! I should say, between us, he is very well 
off. You were fond of him while he was alive, and I 
rather prefer him now he's dead. 

Pau. I should think much less frequently of him than 
I do if you treated me better. 

San. You astonish me ! you don't mean to say that I 
treat you ill 1 

Pau. Cruelly. 

San. Better and better. 

Pau. Savagely. 

San. Worse and worse. 

Pau. But it's easily accounted for. 
■ San. Come, I'm glad of that. 

Pau. You are jealous. 

San. Nonsense, you don't mean that. 

Pau. Jealous as the Moor in the English play, of his 
lovely and unoffending wife. 

San. If I am jealous, this is the first I have heard of it, 
and I think you must allow that 1 take the information 
rather more coolly than the dark gentleman you speak of. 

Pau. Am I not confined to the house 1 

San. I certainly don't choose you to leave it, except 
when I go with you. 

Pau. Do you ever go with me % 

San. I havn't time ; you are quite aware that I am a 
member of the Legislative Assembly, and that my first 
duties are to the state. 

Pau. The first duties of a husband are to the married 
state, 

San. A republic has no wife. 

Pau. Nor anything else that is comfortable, natural, 
well regulated, or rational. 

San. That's not a bad speech, but it comes oddly from 
one who is half a republican already. 

Pa,u. I half a republican ? 1 1 

San. Yes, and the better half — are you not my wife ? 

Pau. Oh, Alphonse de — 

San. Hush ! Your friend Alphonse was a very nice 
young man, no doubt ; but depend upon it, a live husband 
and an existing Republic are better than a departed lover 
and a defunct Monarchy. 

Pa7i. Prove it, then ; coop me up here no longer, but 



ScBNE I.j DRMCA'J'E GROUND. 11 

take me this very day an excurflion into the countiy, and 
let me breathe the fresh air. 

Sail. That is the very thing I should most delight to 
do, but business before pleasure always ; we have infor- 
mation that many of your friends, the royalists, have 
recently arrived, under various disguises, in Paris. Their 
object is revolution, and until they are all rooted out, my 
time is not my own. 

Pau. A royalist can never be a revolutionist. 

S(in. I beg your pardon, a revolutionist is one who 
would change the existing state of affairs, nnd France is, 
at this moment, a Republic. 

Pau. More shame for it. 

San. That may be, but this is not the place to discuss 
such matters. If you were a member of the National 
Assembly — 

Pau. I'd soon talk you all down. 

San. Then I'm glad you are not. But to the question 
more immediately before us ; you wish to go into the 
country to-day 1 

Pau. [ Eagerly.] I do. 

San. You can't. 

Pau. Then, sir, you are — I declare I don't know what 
to call you. 

San. I have told you — call me Citizen. 

Pau. I will ; for I can fancy no term half so insulting. 

San, You do yourself honor by complying with your 
husband's wish — you do yourself injustice by giving a bad 
reason for it. 

Pau. I shall go to my own room. 

San. That you shall, if you wish it. If I prevent you 
from going out, the least I can do is to let you do as you 
like at home. 

Pau. I don't do as I like — [ can't do as I like — and 
well you know it ! But mind, if I don't go out to-day I'll 
never leave the house again ! 

San. That's the most domestic sentiment you have 
uttered since we married. 

Pau. [As^de.^^ I can't provoke him ; if I could, there 
might be some hope. Savage ! 

San. My dear ! 

Pau. Monster ! 



12 DEITCATE GROUND. 



[Act I 



San. My love ! 

Pau. Tyrant ! 

San. Meaning me ] 

Pau. [Spitefully.] Citizen! [Exit to room, r. 

San. That's the way women go on ; they work them- 
selves into a bad temper about nothing at all, and then lay 
the blame on us. Pauline married me from gratitude, but 
if we are to continue to live together, I must trouble her 
to let that feeling ripen into something warmer. I see 
no reason why she should not make a very good wife, if 
I could only shake her out of this romantic nonsense 
about a lover, who seems to have been dead for years. 1 
wish she had been married to him with all my heart, and 
then her romance would have expired long before he did 
[Bell heard, L, u. e. — Looking out of the ivindow.] Ah ! 
who is this coming in at the gate ? by his appearance and 
the box he carries, a travelling merchant, with some 
articles of ornament or dress. [ Throwing open the ivindow.] 
Don't turn him back, porter. Come in, Citizen, come in 
— let him come up stairs. [Coming away from window.] 
There's nothing will restore a woman's equanimity sooner 
than a new bit of dress. 

Pinter Alphonse, c, evidently nervous and agitated. — Pie 
has a square box and strap under his arm. 

Alphonse. [Aside\ That's her uncle, I dare say. Your 
servant. Citizen. [Advancing^ l. 

San. Citizen, your servant. 

Alphonse. 1 have taken the liberty — 

San. Don't mention the word liberty, we live under a 
Republic — [Checking himsef] — that is to say, all I mean 
is — there can be liberty where there is equality ; — no, I 
don't exactly mean that — but, holloa ! what is the matter 
with you. Citizen ? you seem ill. 

Alphonse. I don't feel very well, and that's the truth. 

San. Take something ? 

Alphonse. Nothing, thank you. [Aside.] He must be her 
uncle. 

San. Take a seat, at all events, for your legs seem 
giving way under you. 

[Alphonse puts box on the table, l., and sits, l. 



SCENK I.] 



DELICATE GROUND. 13 



AlpJionse. 1 have walked a long way to-day, and that's 
the truth. 

San. He keeps saying, that's the truth, after everything. 
I suspect he must be lying. What is your object in coming 
here 1 

Alphonse. If you please, I wish to see the lady of the 
house. 

Ran. •* That's the truth," I have no doubt, and so I'll 
call her ; but mind this, if she should be inclined to listen 
to what you have to say, which is very likely, don't ask 
too much of her. 

Alphonse. [Rising.] I don't know what you mean 
exactly. [J..yz'^e.] Surely he can't suspect me ! 

San. I mean, be moderate in your demands. 

Alphonse. Oh, yes ! [^^zJe.] Of course he's her uncle. 

Sail. [Knocks at Pauline^s door, r.] Pauline ! 

Alphonse. [Aside.] I'm in such a fright I don't know 
what to do. [Gets as far from her door as he can. 

Pau. [Appearing at the door.\ Why am I called back ? 
have you changed your mind ? 

San. No, only here is a person who has called to show 
you some novelties in dress, I believe. 

Pau. Since you have sent him, I'll choose one, certainly. 
The attention is a novelty in itself. 

San. Don't give me credit to which I am not entitled 
— he comes on his own account. 

Pau. Then I don't want anything. 

San. So much the better for my purse. Male citizen, 
the female citizen does not want anything. You may 

go- 

Pau. No, he may not, she does. 

San. Male citizen, the female citizen does want some- 
thing. [Aside to Pauline.] 1 must dress to go out, so I 
leave you with him, but mind, whatever he asks don't you 
give it him. [Crossing, and aside to Alphonse.] Remember, 
what I told you — if you hope to come here again, use 
her well. [Exit to his room, l. 

Alphonse. [Having watched Sangfroid off, l. d.] Pauline ! 

Pau. What voice is that ] Alphonse ! impossible ! he 
died long since. 

Alphonse. No, Pauline, he lives ! [Aside.] How altered 
she looks. 



14 DELICATE GROUND. [Act I. 

Pan. Lives ! [Aside.] How changed he seems ! — Then 
who wrote this letter] 

AljyJwnse. I did, when I thought I was dying. 

Pan. You had no business to think any such thing. 
You don't know what you have done ! 

Alphonsc. Alas ! Pauline, they told me I was dying. 

Pau. And they told me, this was written with red ink, 
but I refused to believe them. Where have you been all 
these years ? 

Alphonse. My recovery was slow and tedious, and before 
I was quite strong, a friend, who well knew that a price 
was set on my head, but that no fear of the guillotine 
would keep me from coming to Paris to seek you, got me 
confined in a mad house. 

Pau. I shall love that man as long as I live ! 

Alphonse. For locking me up ? 

Pau. For saving yoar life. I wonder they let you out. 

Alphonse. They did not ; I escaped only the day before 
yesterday, and arrived in Paris this moi^ning, at the risk 
of my life, in search of you and your uncle. 

Pau. My poor uncle ! 

Alphonse. Picture to yourself my delight on accidentally 
looking up and beholding you at the window. [ Very loud.] 
I say, fancy my rapture ! 

Pau. Hush ! hush ! You know not who may hear you. 

Alphonse. Perhaps you're right ; a little caution and a 
little management,, will enable us all three to escape from 
France together. 

Pau. Together ! 

Alphonse, Certainly. You don't suppose that I would 
go without your uncle. [Pointing to Sangfroid's room. 

Pau. Without him 1 my uncle ? 

Alphonse. Yes, your worthy and respected uncle ; for 
though 1 never saw him in my life, T recognized him the 
moment I did. There's something at once noble and 
gentle in his appearance which bespeaks the royalist, 

Pau. [Aside?[ How shall I undeceive him'? 

Alphonse. I'll call him at once. [Calling.] Uncle! 

Pau. Hush ! you don't know what you are saying. 

Alphonse. Yes, I do — he is my uncle, or he will be, for 
he is yours. [Calling.] Uncle ! 

Pau. Pray be silent, he may hear you. 



Scene I.J 



DELICATE GROUND. 15 



Alplionse. That's exactly what I want ; surely you have 
spoken to him about me ] 

Fau. Well, I have; but I told him you were dead. 

Alphonse. He will be the better pleased to find that I'm 
alive. 

Pgm. Don't be too sure of that. 

Alphonse. I shall claim your hand. 

Vau. Beware ! 

' Alphonse. Of what % he can't be so unreasonable as to 
refuse it 1 

Pau. I tell you, he will, he must — he can't help himself. 

Alphonse. Pauline, you frighten me — you don't mean to 
say you are engaged ? 

Pau. Worse than that. 

Alphonse. Married 1 

Pau. Yes. 

Alphonse. To whom, in the name of fate % 

Pau. To him. [Pointing to Sangfroid^ s room. 

Alphonse. What ! your uncle ? 

Pau. He is not my uncle. 

Alphonse. What is he, then? 

Pau. My husband. 

Alphonse. Enough. I have nothing more to say, and 
but one thing to do. [Going to his box on table, l. 

Pau. Alphonse, you frighten me ! What is that one 
thing 1 

Alphonse. Can't you guess? This box contains a loaded 
pistol. It's contents were intended for my enemies, if 
they tried to arrest me. They will now be gratefully 
received by my own head. 

Pau. Alphonse, listen to me. I thought you dead. 

Alj)honse. What of that ! You should have taken a 
melancholy pleasure in remaining single for my sake. 

Pau. I wished it. 

Alphonse. What prevented you ? 

Pau. The necessity of saving my uncle's life. Mons. 
Sangfroid, being in power, had the means of saving him, 
and he made this wretched hand the condition of his 
doing so. 

Alphonse. And do you love this man ? 

Pau. Very little. 

Alphonse. Does he love you ? 



16 DELICATE GROUND. [Act I. 

Pan. Inconveniently much — he is jealous. 

Alphonse. I pity, and fear I must forgive you. 

Pau. I hear him coming ! 

Alj)honse. He must not see me. 

Pau. If he does, we are lost forever. 

Alphonse. [Points to a place of concealment, r. c.J There 1 

Pau. Yes, and quickly. [Alphonse conceals himself, r. c. 

Enter Sangfroid, l. d., dressed. 

San. Well, w^hile I have been dressing myself, I suppose 
you have been deeply engaged with this nobody knows 
who, plotting my ruin. 

Pau. I, Monsieur Sangfroid 1 It 

San. Why this agitation? 

Pau. I'm not agitated. 

San. Oh, yes, you are, evidently; but if you find it 
inconvenient to explain, pray don't attempt it. I'll judge 
for myself — let me see what you have bought. 

Pau. Nothing. 

San. Was there nothing you fancied 1 

Pau. No. 

San. Things too dear, perhaps ? 

Pau. Yes. 

San. Then he has carried away his box and all his 
goods ■? 

Pau. All. 

San. You shall lose nothing by your laudable economy. 
I know these gentry, he's sure to return shortly and make 
you a new offer. I'll wait. [Looking at the clock.] I have 
five minutes to spare. 

Pau. That clock is five minutes slow. 

San. If the clock is slow, I am not. I perceive that 
you wish me gone — I go. When your friend returns, as 
I know he will, tell him either to wait till I come home, 
or to leave his box. [Going towards c. d. 

Pau. I will. 

San. You have — here it is. [Pointing to box. 

Pau. La ! do you think that is his box 1 

San. Think ? why, there can't be the slightest doubt 
about it. 

Pau. Then the man must have forgotten it. 

San. Just so. 



ScENs I.] DELICATE GROUND. 17 

Pau. I am so afraid of your being too late for the 
important business you had to attend to. Do, do go ! 

San. The interest you manifest in my public duties is 
80 gratifying, and so new, that it almost makes me forget 
the first object of my devotion — the Republic. But you 
well remind me that its enemies must be annihilated. 
[ Taking out a paper and looking it over.] It is odd, too, 
that you should be the person to do it, for I perceive that 
the very first and most important criminal on the list is 
a countryman of your own — one De Grandier, from 
Brittany. 

Pau. [Aside.] Gracious powers ! Alphonse ! — Oh, stay, 
stay ] 

San. You forget that the clock is slow. 

Pau. Did I say slow ? I meant fast — fast — 

San. You are more agitated than ever. What can be 
the matter with you to-day ] 

Pau. I don't know — leave me, I entreat you — no, don't 
— stay with me ! 

San. I cannot. But, before I go, that I may redeem 
my word, choose something out of the box. 

Pau. No, no ; I had rather not. 

San. Then let me choose for you. 

Pau. Indeed, I beg you won't. 

San. Then I'll dip in at hazard, and you shall have the 
first thing that comes. 

Pau. I care not what it may be, I do not want it. 

San. [Holding up a uniform coat.] You're quite right, 
you don't — I must try again. Worse and worse ! a pair 
of — you shan't have them ! What can this mean 1 [A 
letter drops.] Ah ! here's something that may explain. 
[Reading the direction.] '* To Alphonse de Grandier." 
Alphonse ! I begin to smell a rat. 

[Looking earnestly at Pauline. 

Pau. Be generous — have pity on him ! 

San. So he is not dead, then. 

Pau. No ! But don't blame him for it — he couldn't 
help it. 

San. He is in my house — he could help that. 

Pau. He is your guest, and the life of your guest should 
be held sacred. 

San. He has conspired against the Republic, and his 



18 DELICATE GROUND. [Act I. 

head is in danger — he is conspiring against me, and my 
head is in danger. 

Tau. He is innocent — he thought me free. 

San. [ With gradually increasing excitement}^ And I 
think liiiii free — too fi'ee — far too free — so free that he 
will drive me mad, and make it necessary that one, if not 
both of us should be put under restraint. [Resitming his 
tro.nquillity.]^ I'm sure, I beg a thousand pardons for this 
unwonted vehemence ; I can't imagine what excited me 
so ; J mean nothingr more than that I think it is better that 
one of us should be under restraint than both. 

Pau. When danger threatens, any excitement is less 
fearful than that awful calmness. 1 read his doom in your 
looks. But mark me, Monsieur Sangfroid ! 

San. Call me Citizen, if you love me. 

Pav. I will not, I hate the word ! But mark me, I say 
— you seek Alphonse's life; if he dies, I will live but to 
love his memory and hate you. 

San. You are far too fast — who told you that I seek his 
life? When a gentleman, although an enemy, not only 
of myself, but of the state, comes into my house, using 
no disguise, but avowing at once, as a gentleman ought, 
his name and station, and throws himself on my protection, 
do you think me base enough to betray him 1 

Pau. You will not betray him, then ? And I have 
wronged your noble nature ! oh, how good you are ! 

San. For twenty-four hours, I shut my eyes and ears to 
the fact of his being in Paris. 

Pau. He will be gone in one. 

San. \^Asich.] I don't believe a word of that. — But if he 
venture to remain, I know my course. 

Pau. Let me call him that he may thank you. 

San. No, call him when I am gone, and let him thank 
you— for if his life be saned, it will be for your sake, not 
his. 

Pau. If his life be spared ! Is there a doubt about it"? 

San. There is a certain degree of uncertainty about all 
political events. 

Pau. Then do not leave us. \PlayfuUy.] Indeed, I 
wonder that one so jealous as you are can think of leaving 
me alone with him at such a moment. 

San. Will nothing — not even my refusing to interfere 



SC SN'E I.] 



DELICATE GROUND. 19 



with this most romantic parting — convince you that I am 
nut jealous ] Learn to know me better. To be jealous, 
a man must love his wife too much, or himself too little. 
I do neither — but I have a mistress who claims and enjoys 
my entire devotion. 

Fau. And she is ? 

San. The Republic. \Exit, c. d. 

Pau. Again that hateful word ! Then my suspicions 
are well-founded — he is gone to denounce him — I feared 
so, but dared not let him see that I did. But let us be 
quick, there may be time yet. \Running to Alphonse' s place 
of concealment. \ Alphonse! Alphonse! 

Enter Alphonse, r. c. 

Alphonse. What say you? 

Pau. My husband knows all ! You are lost ! This 
moment he has left the house to denounce you. 

Alphonse. No, no ; I have overheard your conversation, 
and I am convinced he does not mean to betray me ; if 
he did he would not have lost sight of me. Instead of 
that he has purposely gone out, and has left all the doors 
open to favor my escape. Kind-hearted, generous man ! 

Pau. [ Who has looked out at^the window, l. u. e.] Yes, 
he has left the doors open, but he has taken means more 
effectual than bolts and bars to prevent all egress from the 
house. 

Alphonse. Hard hearted, infamous scoundrel ! 

Pau. The courtyard through which you must pass is 
occupied by a huge dog, more ferocious than any wild 
beast ; that dog obeys no voice but his master's. Were 
you to attempt escape, you would be torn in pieces. 

Alphonse. It is clear he seeks my life, but I'll defeat him 
yet. One way remains. 

Pau. Oh ! what is it % 

Alphonse. [^Crossing to his box and taking out a pistol.^ 
I'll shoot him through the head. 
' Pau. My husband ? 

Alphonse. No, the dog. 

Pau. Of course ! Do it at once, and fly. 

Alphonse. Without you, Pauline ] Never! 

Pau. You forget thai; I am married. 

Alphonse. To whom? To a hateful tyrant — to a hang- 



20 DELICATE GROUND. 



[Act I. 



man! For — don't deceive yourself, Pauline ; his jealousy, 
once roused, will not be appeased by my death alone ; 
they are so used to cutting off people's heads here, that 
half-a-dozen, more or less, makes no difference. I tell you, 
that the moment he returns, we shall be led like two lambs 
to the slaughter house. 

Pau. Save yourself, then, and leave me to ray fate. 
Alphonse. I will not, I swear it ! We fly and live, or 
stay and die together ! 

Pau. [Aside.] There is no arguing with a madman, and 
every moment is precious — I must dissemble. 
AJphonse. You do not answer — flight or death ? 
Pau. [Aside.] It must be so — but the instant he is safe 
beyond the barrier, I will leave him and return. 
Alphonse. Death, then ! 
Pau. No, Alphonse, flight! 

\He rushes eagerly to her, takes her hand, and they are 
going off, c. D., when they are met by Sangfroid, who 
has a boquet in his hand. — Pauline sinks on both 
kneees ; Alphonse bends, pistol in hand, in a melo- 
dramatic attitude of defiance, and Sangfroid stands 
over the7n erect, with his arms folded. 
Alphonse. (l.) Monster ! 
Pau. (r.) Mercy ! mercy ! 
San. (c.) Were you going out for a walk, you two ? 

[Pauline rises. 
Alphonse. This coolness shall not save you ! Let me 
pass, murderer, or — 

[Presents the pistol at Sangfroid/s head — Sangfroid 

takes hold of his arm, bends it upwards, and the 

pistol goes off. 

San. [Taking a pinch of snuff.] Or what"? You see, 

coolness has saved me. But I'm excessively annoyed witt 

you, notwithstanding; just look up there, and see what i 

liole you have made in my ceiling. 

AJphonse. This is trifling. I am aware of the fate that 
awaits me, and I am prepared to meet it like a man. My 
head is yours. 

San, How can your head be mine 1 

AJphonse. At such an awful moment I will not be put 
down by Republican levity. Man of blood, 1 repeat, my 
head is your's ! take it. 



ScEXE I.] DELICATE GROUND. 21 

iSan. You're very kind ; possibly you can further oblige 
me by informing me what I'm to do with it, when I've 
got it. 

Pan. I fear you know too well. 

San. I'll be hanged if I do ; but as the folly of his 
conduct proves it to be a calf's head, perhaps your cookery- 
book will tell. 

Pau. You need not insult your unfortunate prisoner, 
Citizen. 

San. He won't long be my prisoner. 

Alphonse. I perfectly understand you, sir; you are a 
true Republican, and your motto is — 

San. Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity! 

Alphonse. And well you act up to it Liberty, and 
you imprison me — Equality, and you trample on me — 
Fraternity, and you send me to the scaffold. 

San. Come, now, let us see how you apply it. You 
come here clandestinely to see my wife ; that, I presume, 
you call Liberty — I do, at all events, and a very great one. 
You assume an authority over her, which, of right, belongs 
to me — that appears to be your notion of Equality : finally, 
I catch you in the act of walking off with her, which, I 
suppose, you construe into Fraternity. 

Alphonse. I loved Pauline before you did. 

San. Very likely, but I married her first. 

Alphonse. I care not for that. I find her wedded to a 
tyrant. Life is a burthen to me, and if you were not going 
to put an end to it, I would ; nay, more, I will. 

\Puts the p>istol to his head. 

Pau. Alphonse ! for mercy's sake, hold ! 

[Crossing to him. 

San. Don't alarm yourself, my dear ; he forgets the 
pistol is as empty as the head he points it at. 

[Places the hoquet on tahle, R. 

Alphonse. Then I'll be beforehand with you, and give 
myself up. Pauline, farewell forever ! 

[Kneels and kisses her hand — while he does sOy Sangfroid 
locks the door, and takes out the key. 

San. [Putting the key in his pocket as he meets Alphonse.] 
Not just yet. 

Pau. Be generous, and suffer him to escape. 

San. Not just yet, I tell you. 



22 DELICATE GROUND. 



[Act I. 



Tau. Then hear me; if Alphonse is to be killed, I will 
not survive him. 

S>an. Don't be in a hurry, wait till he is killed. 

Pan. Certainly not ; it will be too late then ; we'll 
perish together ! 

San. But there's no reason for your being put to death ; 
you havn't conspired against the Republic ! 

Pau. Then I will ! I'll do everything that poor 
Alphonse has done. 

San. Which will include, I fear, sundry very silly ones. 

Alphonse. Spare her, and torture me as you will. 

Tau. No, don't ! spare him, and torture me. 

San. I'm not going to torture either of you, romantic 
noodles ; but I shall put a question or two to both. 

Pau. and Alphonse. Go on, we'll answer. 

San. Good! but don't both answer at once. \^Grossingf 
c] You, sir, first — I believe you do me the honor to 
profess an affection for my wife — is that so? 

Alphonse. It is. 

San. Citizen, you are very obliging. Pauline, do you 
return that affection. 

Pan. [Aside.] His heartless coolness is such that I could 
say anything to annoy him. — Yes ! 

San. Very good. 

Pau. [Aside.] I never saw any one like him. 

San. And are you of opinion that this interesting pas- 
sion will last for fifty years, if you should live so long 1 

Pau. [Aside.] He is too provoking ! — For a hundred ! 

Alphonse. For a thousand ! 

San. A hundred is plenty. The sooner you are mar- 
ried, the better ! 

Pau. You only say that because you know we can't be. 

San. I have often told you, that you don't know half 
the blessings of living under a Republic. Two people 
wish to be married, they have only to attend before the 
municipal authorities, with two witnesses, and say so — 
they are married. In a week they are tired of one another, 
they have only to attend again, say we wish to be divorced 
— they are divorced. 

Pau. And this course you propose that you and I should 
take? 

San. I am always anxious to do anything for your hap- 



Scene I.] 



DELICATE GROUND. 23 



piness. [Handing her a paper.^ I have already signed this 
paper, sign it yourself, and we are no longer man and 
wife. [Retires, c. 

Pau. [Aside.\ He cannot mean it; I'll try him, at all 
events. 

Alplionse. [ To Pauliiie.] You see his object ; he has 
doomed us both to an ignominious death, and he thinks he 
should be disgiaced were you to die bearing his name. 

Pau. [To Sangfroid.^ Heartless man ! I'll sign. 

[Goes to table, r., and signs, 

Alplionse. Now, Pauline, see how superior is my affec- 
tion for you to his. My only wish is that you should die — 

San. (r.) [Aside.] How very kind. 

Alplionse. (l.) Bearing my name. 

San. [Aside.\ Oh! [Aloud.] You are neither of you half 
as affectionate as I am, I have anticipated that wish. Sign 
that paper both of you, we will present it immediately after 
the other, and this solemnity over, you will proceed 
together — 

Alplionse. I understand. Pauline, you will need all your 
firmness, we shall proceed together to the scaffold. 

Pau. No, no, not the scaffold ; anything is better than 
that. 

San. [Aside.] I should think so. [Aloud.] Stufi' and rub- 
bish about scaffolds, you will proceed wherever you like ; 
a carriage will be in readiness and here is your passport. 

[Crossing, c. 

Alplionse. [Taking it.] Can it be possible? It is a 
passport for myself, and wife. Oh ! sir, I fear I have done 
you injustice. 

San. It's not your fault, if you hav'nt. 

Pau. [Aside.] I cannot understand him. I thought he 
was mad about me. [ To Sangfroid, who has watched her.] I 
fear this sacrifice will cost you too dear. 

San. You're very kind — not all. 

Pau. I'm convinced it will. You will find that in seeking 
our happiness, you have destroyed your own. 

San. Not the least in the world, I assure you. 

Pau. Do you mean to say that you were not jealous of 
me. 

San, Do I look like it ] 

Pan.. And that you can give me up without a sigh 1 



24 DELICATE GROUND. 



[Act I. 



San. Without anything — but my best wishes for your 
future happiness. 

Pau. [Aside.] It's most extraordinary ! He never can 
have loved me ! 

Alphonse. [Aside.] It's not very complimentary — he seems 
quite pleased to get rid of her. 

San. Come, bustle, bustle, there's no time to lose, I ran 
some risk about this passport. [ To Alphonse.] You go into 
that room, you'll find writing materials and you can write 
to your friends, and tell them that you are coming. 

Alphonse. You are too good. [Exit into room, l. 

San. You go that way — [ To Pauline.] — and pack up 
your trunks. As soon as your ready, take your friend's 
arm, and follow me to the Municipality. 

[Going, turns and looks towards her. 

Pau. [Aside.] I cannot believe that I have been so mis 
taken about his attachment to me. 

San. I beg your pardon, I'm afraid you did'nt hear me. 

Pau. Yes, I did. [^*26^e.] I cannot, will not leave, till I 
have assured myself of the truth. 

San. May 1 again venture to suggest dispatch ? 

Pau. [Aside.] I don't like being turned out of the house 
in this manner. [Aloud.] Is there any necessity for so much 
hurry 1 

San. Yes ! it's nearly one o'clock. 

Pau. That clock is too fast. 

San. You shall take it with you, if you like, when you go. 

Pau. Why so 1 

San. Because, madam, it seems to have the gallantry 
befitting a lady's clock, and to be fast or slow, to suit her 
humor. 

Pau. " Madam " seems rather formal between us two, 
don't you think so 1 

San. Well, I don't know what to say. You see its very 
awkward, until this little ceremony is quite completed ; 
although, you are no doubt, to a certain extent, my wife, 
vou are also, to a certain extent, his. 

Pau. [Aside.] Little ceremony ! incredible indifference. 

San. For my part, I am very particular in my manner 
of addressing one, who either is, or is likely to become the 
wife of another man, and I wish more people were like 
me. 



Scene I.] DELICATE GROUND. 25 

Pau. You allude to poor Alphonse — you bear him no 
ill-will, I hope. 

San. Oh ! dear, no ! not the least ; he was not over- 
scrupulous in his attempt to rob me of my wife certainly. 

Pau. It was no very great robbery, considering the 
moderate value you seem to set upon her. 

San. I set none at all, but then he could'nt know that. 

Pau. What most puzzles me is, how I could ever have 
fallen into the mistake of fancying you jealous of me. 

San. Ah ! that was a grand mistake. 

Pau. Why are you not jealous of me 1 

San. What can it signify 1 I've given you your own 
way in this business, be satisfied. 

Pau. One may have one's own way, and yet be curious 
to know why one has it — why are you not jealous of me 1 

San. Dear me, it's simple enough ; there can be no 
jealousy where there is no love. 

Pau. You did love me when you married me. 

San. Do you think so ? 

Pau. I'm sure of it. 

San. Well, I don't exactly remember ; but if I did, il 
must have been the least bit in the world. 

Pau. Must it, and why, pray ? 

San. Nay, I must entreat you, not to press for an answer, 
which cannot be made palatable. 

Pau. That's my business ; I insist on it. I ask you a 
question, and it is your duty to answer it. 

San. Gently, gently! seeing, as I said before, that you 
have ceased to be my wife — to a certain extent — I doubt 
about that word duty. 

Pau. Then I ask it as a favor, as a last favor. 

San. That's another thing. 

Pau. Tell me my faults, that I may try to correct them. 

San. Do you want to know them all 1 

Pau. All — every one. 

San. Then we had better sit down, because it will 
occupy some time. \^Puts chairs — they sit. 

Pau. (r.) Now, then for your first objection. 

San. (l.) Your face — 

Pau. What, I'm ugly, am I % 

San. No, by no means ; it's the expression I find fault 
with. 



26 DELICATE GROUND. 



[Act L 



Pau. What is the matter with that ? 

San. Well, it's not so easy to describe. 

Pau. I beg you won't spare me, 

San. No, no, it is'nt that. Your expression, I should 
say, is one of mixed vehemence and silliness. 

Pau. From which you conclude my character to be — 

San. Ridiculously romantic. 

Pau. This is not true, and you know it. 

Safi. [Rising.] Very well — then I don't see the use — 

Pau. [Pulling him down.] Don't move ! I'll hear it all. 
But before you go on, be good enough to reach me my 
fan. 

San. [Handing Jan, which hangs on his chair, and pausing 
for a few seconds until she has fanned herself] It's getting 
warm, is'nt it ? 

Pau. For silly and romantic people — very. 

San. Shall I go on now? 

Pau. Yes — no — what proves my vehemence 1 

San. The tone of your voice. 

Pau. Indeed ! What proves my silliness? 

San. Your vehemence. 

Pau. Go on. 

San. No, I've said enough ; frankness and candor are 
unwelcome guests at the table of self-conceit. You can 
easily fancy that as soon as I perceived these defects, 
which I regretted I had not discovered before marriage, 
I at once renounced the plan I had formed in my own 
mind concerning you. 

Pau. [Drawing her chair closer to his.] A plan ? What 
was it 1 

San. [Moving his chair away.] I had hoped — [During 
this and the next speech, he gets gradually more and more 
earnest.] — fondly hoped that, with care and attention, I 
might succeed in improving what was noble and good in 
you — in eradicating what was silly and weak — and that I 
might having thus elevated your tastes and enlarged your 
ideas, have fitted you to become a sharer with your hus- 
band in those great labors for the public good, of which he 
would have represented the strength — you, the grace and 
ornament. 

Pau. You meant all this for me ? 

San. I did ! And it would have given you that expres- 



Scene I.] DELICATE GROUND. 27 

sion which, as I told you, you want — without which beauty 
is but an empty name, but having which, instead of hearing 
fools exclaim — " how pretty she is," my heart would have 
swelled with pride as men of sense said — " look at her 
countenance — how good ! how noble ! how intellectual !'* 

Pau. [Putting her hand on his arm.] And you think 
they would have said so ? 

San. [Removing her arm, checking himself, and changing 
his tone.] It doesn't signify a straw whether they would or 
would not, because your new husband does not appear to 
trouble himself about such matters. So the doll is pretty 
he don't mind the head being stuffed with sawdust. 

Pau. [Rising and walking about.] I beg your pardon, 
you know very little about him, he is not so rude as to 
mix my head up with saw dust; he believes that I have a 
mind, a heart, a soul, sir. 

San. I dare say he does, but he has a monstrous mean 
opinion of them. 

Pau. Perhaps you will be good enough to prove that. 

San. Nothing easier : he comes here in search of you, 
thinking, I grant you, that you are single — he learns that 
you are married, and adverting to this solemn fact only to 
disregard it, he proposes to you to break your vows, betray 
your husband and fly with him ; he does this, mind you, 
not after a long series of such attentions as might throw a 
weak woman off her guard, but under the perfect convic- 
tion, that he is addressing a wicked one, whom no propo- 
sition, however vicious, will startle. 

Pau. [Aside, and sinking into her chair.] It is too true. 

San. Are you proud of his opinion of you, still ? 

Pau. There is perhaps but one excuse for him. 
The cold, calculating, practised advocate, feigns a passion 
which he does not feel, and captivates his hearers by his 
eloquent reasoning. Love feels a passion which it can- 
not feign, and goes direct to its object without stopping 
to reason at all. 

San. I admit the force of your position. You will, of 
course, admit it also, when, a few years hence, weary of 
you, he feels a passion, which he cannot feign, for some else. 

Pau. He never will ; you libel him. 

San. Perhaps I do; but the horse that has once 
stumbled, is very apt to go down. 



28 DELICATE GROUxXD. [Act I. 

Tau. 1 see your object in all this, you flatter yourself 
that I shall regret your loss. 

San. I'm not such a fool ; a man of sense knows too 
well, that however honest his intentions, he has only to 
tell a silly woman of her faults, to make an enemy of her 
for life. 

Fau. Then perhaps I am not so silly as you do me the 
honor to think me, I am thankful for the lesson you have 
read me, and to show my gratitude — \S}ie holds aut her 
hand for him to kiss, he affects not to notice it.\ — I say to 
shew my gratitude — well, citizen % 

San. I beg your pardon, I'm sure. 

[ Takes fan out of her hand and puts it douni. 

Pau. You don't seem to see my hand. 

San. Oh ! yes I do ; I always told you it's a very nice 
hand. 

Pau. [Vexed, but turning it and holding it as if to shake 
hands with hi?n.] What of your's then. 

San. Oh ! mine is not to be compared to it. 

Pau. You refuse even to shake hands with me. 

San. My dear madam, under the circumstances, I feel 
on very delicate ground. 

Pau. Very well, very well, — if you don't instantly shake 
hands with me, I shall know what to think. 

San. Good — shall you also know what to say 1 

Pau. Yes — I shall say it's evident you still love me. 

San. Well, what next 1 

Pau. That you are as jealous of me as you can be. 

San. [HoldiJig out his hand.] Oh ! come, anything to 
disprove that, 

Pau. [ Withdrawing her hand.] If that is your object, I 
decline. 

San. I think you're quite right. 

Pau. And I also refuse to accept this boquet. 

[ Throwing it down. 

San. Refuse; don't throw things about. \Picking it wp^ 
It never was intended for you. 

Pau. For whom then ] 

San. That's my secret. 

Pau. So, sir, you love another % 

San. Now never you mind — you go and pack up your 
things. 



Scene I] DELICATE GROUND. 29 

Pau. I'm going — unfeeling man — I'm gone. [^52Je.] 
At length ray eyes are opened ; I see it all ; — the creature 
was not jealous, but faithless. [Exit, r. d. 

Enter Alphonse with letter in his hand, l. d. 

Alphonse. [Aside.] There is something very mysterious 
about this ! he seems, if possible, more ready to part with 
her, than I am to take her. 

San. Ah ! There you are again — written your letter ? 
That's right ! The carriage is ordered, and the citizen 
Pauline will be ready directly. 

Alphonse. Would you object to allowing me two or 
three minutes' conversation with you in private ? 

San. Certainly not — pray go on. 

Alphonse. That you ! but the fact is, the questions I 
wish to ask you are of so delicate a nature, that I hardly 
know where to begin. 

San. At the beginning I should say. 

Alphonse. Yes, I know ; but that's the difficulty. 

San. Then try the middle or the end. You've no time 
to spare. 

Alphonse. You — you — you don't love — that is, of course, 
I don't wish you to love her now — but I mean you didn't 
love Pauline 1 

San. I shall not contradict you. 

Alphonse. Yes, but it seems to me that you could'nt bear 
her. Now as she has become my wife — 

San. Not yet — she's my wife at present. 

Alphonse. We'll say " our wife." 

San. Excuse me, 1 don't mean to be rude, but I don't 
like the partnership. Call her Pauline. 

Alphonse. As you please, but you will think it but 
natural that I should feel curious, not to say anxious, to 
know the cause of your aversion. You can have nothing 
to say against her personal appearance. 

San. Nothing. 

Alphonse. Nor against her numerous virtues ? 

San. No. Yes, stop, there is one virtue you will have 
to teach her. 

Alphonse. What is that ] 

San. Fidelity to her husband. 

Alphonse. What, sir ! do you imagine Pauline capable? — 



30 DELICATE GROUND. [Act I, 

San. Upon my life you're a treat. You supposed her 
capable when you asked her to run away from me. 

Alphome. [Aside.] I never thought of that. [Aloud.] True, 
but, without meaning to be rude, you must admit the pos- 
sibility of another gaining her fixed affections though you 
have failed to do so. 

San. Certainly, or that others, among the numerous 
modern inventions,, may have taken out a patent for 
machinery to stop runav/ay wives, as they do runaway 
horses. 

AlpJionse. I'm content to take my chance, and I think 
as it can't signify to you now, that you are too generous 
to withhold any information likely to improve that chance. 

San. Sir, you do me honor. 

Alphonse. You have been much in her society lately. In 
all these years, her tastes may have changed. Would you 
mind telling me any particular likes and dislikes she has ? 

San. With all the pleasure in life- — sit down — [ They sit 
side hy side.] In fact I am so much obliged to you for the 
handsome manner in which you are going to take hei off 
ray hands — [They rise, how to one another, and sit again.] 
— that I'll tell you anything. — [-4*2Vie.] Including a few lies. 

Alphonse. You are more than kind. 

San. Excuse my being a little abrupt — time presses. 
Are you rich % 

Alphonse. Yes. 

San. Active % 

Alphonse. Yes. 

San. Enjoy good health? 

Alphonse. Yes. 

San. Good temper? 

Alphonse. Yes. 

San. That's lucky, for she'll try all four, I can tell you. 
I don't mean to say she has worried me to anything like 
the extent she'll worry you. I would'nt let her, and that's 
the reason we part. 

Alphonse. [Alarmed?] How will she worry me % 

San. First of all by her extravagance, which knows no 
bounds ; next by her thirst for public amusements, which 
is insatiable; and thirdly, but by no means lastly, by her 
craving for novelty, which is incessant. She must have 
more dresses — more shawls — more hats — more lace-— 



ScKxr. I.j DELICATE GHOUND. 31 

moie jewels than any female of her acquaintance — more 
servants — more carriages — and more horses than any man 
of youi's. She must be whirled from the 1st of January 
to the 31st of December in one continual round of gaiety 
— breakfasts — pic-nics — promenades — dinners — concerts 
— balls — theatres — operas and masquerades. Then if she 
should fancy a pound of tea from Canton — a needle from 
Sheffield — a yard of sable, or a crab from Siberia — some 
Bear's grease from the North Pole — nay, even a pound of 
green cheese from the moon, you must fetch it — no excuse 
— you must fetch it. She loill be obeyed. In short you will 
lose your riches in a month — your activity in a fortnight — 
your health in a week — and your temper in a day. \Iiising.\ 
And now, sir, I leave you to judge whether I ought not 
to feel grateful for the eminent service you are about to 
render me. [Exit, c. d. 

Alplionse. Can this be all true ? or has he invented it 
on purpose to annoy me. I don't care, I'll pay no atten- 
tion to his warnings, and think of nothing but the happiness 
that awaits me. if she really does wish for all these things 
she ought to have them, and she shall ; if people in love 
were always to listen to what other people call reason, I 
should like to know how many marriages there would be. 
\Going to the door of Pauline^ s room.] Pauline, Pauline. 

Pau. [Running in.] Who calls? [Seeing Alphonse she 
checks herself and turns from him.] Oh, it's you is it ? 

Alphonse. Yes, Pauline ; but how cold you are. 

Pau. You are quite mistaken — I'm as hot as fire. 

Alphonse. And so am I. I burn with impatience till 
you are completely freed from the trammels of this 
Monsieur Sang-froid. 

Pau. And so does he — I'm convinced he does — he's in 
love with some other woman. I'm certain of it. 

Alphonse. And if he is, what can it signify to us? 

Pau. Everything ! it's an insult. And what woman puts 
up with an insult? Nay, sir, allow me to ask you another 
question. What man who pretends to care about her, 
permits her to put up with it? 

Alphonse. Be reasonable, Pauline. Can I call him out 
for doing the very thing I wish — for resigning you to me ? 

Pau. He has no rig^ht to resig^n me on account of another 
woman 



o,. 



I DELICATE GROUND. 



0,.i DELICATE GROUND. JACT L 

Al'phonse. Forget the past, and tliink only of the future. 
Nothing shall be wanting to your happiness Your most 
extravagant wishes shall be gratified. 

Fau. What do you mean. I have no extravagant 
wishes. 

Alphonse. Dresses — shawls — hats — lace — -jewels — ser- 
vants — carriages — horses — 

Pau. What on earth are you taking about? 

Alphovse. Breakfasts — pic-nics — promenades — dinners 
— concerts — balls — theatres — operas and masquerades. 

Pau. This is moderation. Have you nothing else to 
offer me ] 

AlpJwnse. Yes. Tea from Canton — needles from Shef- 
field — sable from Siberia — bear's grease from the North 
Pole. 

Pau. Have you lost your senses 1 are you a lunatic 1 
Good gracious ! I remember now you told me you had been 
confined in a mad house — and the moon is iust now at its 
full. 

Alphonse. The moon 1 that shan't stop me. I'm ready 
to go there if you require it, and fetch you a pound of 
green cheese. 

Pan. [Aside.] He's raving mad. [Aloud.] Alphonse, you 
frighten me. 

Alphonse. I have no wish to frighten you. I only said 
it to prove my readiness to do anything you wish. 

Pau. [Aside.] I'll try him. [Aloud.] Where is the citizen 
Sangfroid ? 

Alphonse. He has this moment left mfe. 

Pau. Follow him, find him. Discover for me instantly 
who this woman is that he is in love with. 

Alphonse. This is a strange errand to send me on. 

Pau. No matter, bring me the proof of his falsehood 
and I am your's — fail — and I renounce you forever. 

Alphonse. But consider 

Pau. I have. 

Alphonse. Listen. 

Pau I won't. 

Alphonse. One moment. 

Pau. [Vehemently.] Fly — and obey me. 

Alphonse. [Aside.] The citizen was right, she will he 
obeyed. [Exit, c. d. 



Scene I.] DELICATE GROUND. S3 

Pau. There is no bearing this. If they procure twenty 
divorces I never will move from here until I have discov- 
ered who this woman is. [Goes to the glass.] A pretty 
figure I cut owing to this excitement — with my cheeks on 
fire, and my eyes half out of my head — [Sangfroid appears 
at door c] — There is some expression in my face now, I 
rather think ; and I onjj^^j^vish Monsieur Sangfroid were 

-liere-to isee it. " 

San. [Advaticingh.] Monsieur Sangfroid is much flattered 
by that wish. What say you 1 

Pau. Nothing. I was only thinking. 
San. Of what? 

Pau. Did you meet Alphonse 1 

San. No, I saw him. But to tell you the truth I got out 
of his way. 

Pau. I sent him to seek you. I fear he is going out of 
his senses. 

San. With joy, no doubt ; but why 1 
Pau. He has been promising me all manner of extrav- 
agant things which I don't want, and ended by offering to 
sro to the moon to fetch me jorreen cheese. 

San. [Aside.] Ha, ha! the bait has taken. [Aloud.] 
Don't alarm yourself, he's not a madman. He'll make a 
capital husband. He's a fool. [He marhs the effect of 
this ujjon her, and seems pleased^ But what were you 
thinkinof of when I came in ? 

Pau. Of the haste, I may say the indecent haste with 
which you are laboring to get rid of me. 
San. I seek your happiness in all I do. 
Pau. Say rather your own, selfish man. Had you 
sought mine alone, " you might have succeeded in im- 
proving what was good and noble in me — in eradicating 
what was silly and weak — you might have elevated my 
tastes, enlarged my ideas, and fitted me to become a 
sharer with you in those great labors for the public good, 
of which you would have represented the strength, I the 
grace and ornament." 

San. [Aside.] She remembers my very words ! 
Pau. And let me tell you that, had you done so, your 
generosity, like other virtues, miglit have proved its own 
reward, for in seeking my hnppiness you might have 
secured vour own. 



34 DEI-ICATE GROUND. [ActI. 

San. [A little off his guard.] You think it likely that by 
pursuing this course — 

Fau. [Coolly.] You will be more successful with your 
future wife. ^Sangfroid looks disappointed. — Aside.] 
Come, I can be as cool as he can. 

San. [ Very coolly.] Let me recommend you to finish 
your packing. 

Pau. [Annoyed at his manner.] More successful, 1 say, 
with the young woman. She is young, I suppose 1 

Sav. No, not particularly. 

Pn.u. Then with the pretty woman. 1*11 be sworn she's 
pretty. 

San. If Tm content, what can it matter to you ? Finish 
your packing. 

Pau. Whose sense — 

San. Well, I'm happy to say, I think she has sense. 

Pau. And, above all, whose expression, — now don't 
tell me that she has'nt expression. 

San. On the contrary, I tell you she has — more than I 
ever hoped to meet with. 

Pan. More than I have, no doubt. 

San. More than I thought you had, I must own ; but 
do, pray, finish your packing. 

Pom. Pray don't be so very uneasy, you will soon be 
relieved from my society ; and as this is the last time we 
may ever be alone — a circumstance which I make no 
doubt, you flatter yourself distresses me exceedingly ; hut 
which, so far from exciting me in the least, produces in 
me that utter coolness, which is so provoking in you. I 
beg to tell you that you are mistaken if you think I shall 
carry with me either affection or esteem for you ; and that 
you will live in my recollection but as the most perfidious 
and deceitful of men. And so, sir, farewell, forever. [She 
is going off in great anger, hut stops, turns, and softens almost 
to iveeping.] No, I won't say that; I dare say I shall see 
you again befi^re I go. [Exit, r. d. 

San. Poor thing ! she is as full of feeling as she can be, 
and persuades herself that she is cool. [Alphonse peeps in 
at door, c] But yonder is my worthy and acute suc- 
cessor, as he thinks himself. He seems inclined to listen. 
He shall hear of something to his advantage, as they say 
in the newspapers. [Goes to her door and par tiaUy opens it. 



Scene I.] DELICATE GROUND. 35 

AlpJionse. There he is ; I don't think he's been out at 
all. 

San. I wonder what she is about. 

Alphonse. What can that signify to him? and why did 
she send me to find out about this woman whom she 
thinks he is in love with % What can that signify to her 1 
Theie's something very strange in the whole business. 
If she has one-half the faults he says she has, added to 
those which I have always heard that women are sure to 
conceal fiora their husbands before marriage, 1 shan't be 
near so happy as I thought for. 

San. What is she puttiilg' up now? Oh, her writing 
desk. She opens the lower part, and out comes packet 
on packets of my letters to her. Ah ! they are going 
into the fire, of course. What valuable time we waste on 
women ! No, by Jupiter, nothing of the sort — she presses 
them to her heart, and in they go again. What's that I 
see ? the locket I gave her with a lai-ge lock of my hair. 
That's sure to go out of the window, and I am sorry for 
it, for mine is getting so thin that I should be glad to have 
it back again. What's that ? she kisses it, weeps over it, 
kisses it again, touches a secret spring and a small drawer 
conceals it. \^Coming aivay.^ I can't see any more. She 
has touched a secret spring, here. \^Str iking his heart.] 
What an ass is that citizen Alphonse. He pokes his nose 
between man and wife, and he'll get a pinch that will last 
him for life. 

A/phonse. [Advancing, L.j I was looking for you, sir. 

San. [Savagely.] Citizen ! 

Alphonse. Well, citizen ; you are in love with some 
lady. 

San. And if I am, what is that to you ? 

Alphonse. Nothing. But my — your — that is — Madame 
Pauline wishes to know who it is. 

San. Then let her ask me herself. 

Alphonse. Any communication you have to make to her 
now must go throuo^h me. 

San. Must it? Then I have a favorite sword I want 
to send ; would you like that to go through you ? 

Alphonse. No, of course, I don't mean anything of that 
sort. 

San. It is not very easy to know what you mean ; but 



36 DELICATE GROUND. 



[Act I. 



what I mean is this — you have come here like a thief as 
you are — 

Alplionse. A thief, sir % 

San. Don't interrupt me. You'll find I'm quite right — 
like a thief as you are — to rob me of my wife. Are you 
ready, now on the instant — that is to say, the instant the 
forms of law are complied with, to make her yours % 

Alphonso. Well, I don't know. 

San. You don't know? but you must know. Do you 
suppose I'll allow you to disturb the peace of a quiet, 
well-regulated family in this manner? — to deprive a lady 
of a husband, who is worthy the name of a husband, with- 
out being prepared to offer her the poor consolation of 
such a paltiy, contemptible substitute as you are ? 

Alphonse. I don't care for your abuse; you're only 
angry because she prefers me to you. 

San. I'm not the least angry, but I want an answer, 
and I mean to have one. 

AlpJionse. I must take a few days to consider. Mar- 
riage is a serious thing. 

San. You have tried to trifle with it, and you shall find 
it so. You shall not have a day, an hour, or a minute. 

Alphonse. Do you mean to say you will use force ? 

San. 1 mean to say that if you have the bad taste to 
slight a lady who is — will be — your wife, I have the good 
taste to avenge an insult offered to one who is — was — 
mine, 

Alphonse. Look you, Citizen Sangfroid ; if you had been 
reasonable, and had allowed me a little time for inquiry, it 
is quite possible that in a few days I might have accomo- 
dated you by taking your wife off your hands ; but you 
will find that, although your opinion of me is very mean — 

San. Q,uite right, it is. 

Alphonse. I am not a man to bullied. [Louder.] I say 
to bullied, sir — to be bullied. 

Enter Pauline, r. 

Pau. What in the world is the meaning of all this noise. 

San. The meaning is simply this — this gentleman, hav- 
ing deprived you of one husband, hesitates about fulfilling 
his promise of finding you another. 

Fau. [Delighted.] Is it possible ? 



Scene I.] 



DFJJCA'J'E GROUxNTn. 37 



San. Yes, but don't be uneasy, I'll find a way to make 
him. 

Alphonse, Make me? You little know me! 
San. And you'll discover presently how much you know 
about me. It may be true that the citizen Pauline is 
thoughtless, extravagant, romantic, silly — 

Pau. Now stop, that's quite enough. ; 

San. Very well ; and that I — 

Alphonse. I can tell you her opinion of you. You are 
a cold, dissembling, ironical, tyrannical husband. 
San. Holloa ! holloa ! where did you hear this 1 
Alphonse. Never you mind. I'm not quite so simple as 
you imagine. I can see that this is all a trap — that you 
and your wife want to get rid of one another, and that I 
am to be made the scape-goat. 

San. \^Aside.] Confound the fellow, he's not quite such 
a fool as 1 thought. 

Pau. [ To Sangfroid.\ Blame yourself for this. Why 
did you say such things of me % 

San. I only said them to annoy him ; but why have you 
said such things of me] 

Pau. He only said them to annoy you. 
San. Come, sir ; we lose time. Are you ready to 
marry this lady ] Once ! 
Alphonse. No. 
San. Twice! Thrice! 
Alphonse. No, no. 

San. Then I'll take what you offered me this morning. 
Alphonse. What was that ] 
San. Your head. 

Alphonse. Take it and welcome, but I'm not going to 
marry a woman who keeps other gentlemen's hair locked 
up in secret drawers. 

Pau. What in the world do you mean, sir? 
San. You see he'll say anything ; but I must now ask 
you — are you ready to marry this gentleman 1 

Pau. Never; still I am free to admit that I am, in 
some sort, under obligation to him. He has taught me 
the difference between a hair-brained, fiivolous, change- 
able, suspicious man, and a staid, intelligent, and useful 
member of society ; and rather than marry him — I say, as 
he said — take my he'ad. 



38 DELICATE GROUND. [Act L 

San. So I will ; I won't have his because I've got a 
better of my own, but the events of to-day have imparted 
to your countenance the only thing it wanted — expression. 
I therefore accept your head, but only to imprint upon it 
the kiss of reconciliation. \Kisses Jur forehead. 

Fau. I gave you my hand for my uncle's life. I offer 
you my heart for 7ny own ; I will even, with your leave, 
add my thanks for saving — [Looking at Alphonse.\ — a 
much less valuable life than either. [They laugh at him. 

Alphonse. Oh ! laugh away, by all means, if you are 
satisfied — I am sure I ought to be. I have got not only 
ray life, but that which all Paris is running after — my 
liberty. 

Pau. But how about my rival ? 

San. [Presenting the boquet.] You have no rival. You 
have been, and are, sole mistress of this, my heart. You 
have been, and will be, sole mistress of this, my house. 

Pau. Then it shall be my endeavor so to conduct it 
that my claims for approbation shall rest upon strong, as 
well as upon Delicate Ground. 

THE END. 





014 434 683 A 




